


I Wanna Be Drunk When I Wake Up

by awfuldaycupcake



Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: Lamp - Freeform, M/M, More platonic LAMP than logince but it is still VERY relevant, Roman-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 08:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12790638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awfuldaycupcake/pseuds/awfuldaycupcake
Summary: Thomas wonders what happens to the signs when he gets drunk. He learns pretty quickly that it's not anything good.ORThomas gets drunk, cries in his room alone, blacks out, and makes out with himself. All at once!





	I Wanna Be Drunk When I Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from "Drunk" by Ed Sheeran, and I 10/10 recommend giving it a listen while reading this. Also, if you see any errors or typos, (or just can really think of a way to make this better,) let me know! It's my first Sanders Sides fic, and I want it to be the best it can be!
> 
> Also I wrote a lowkey prequel after I wrote this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13150272
> 
> Follow my tumblr: www.pattson.tumblr.com

They were all sitting in the common room talking to Thomas, helping sort through his heap of problems in another dumb, unoriginal video. No surprise there. Ugh. Sometimes Roman felt like his only purpose was to sort through other people’s problems. Shouldn’t they be outside, having adventures, saving princesses? There’s always a princess that needs saving. But instead? Instead they were _remembering._

“Sometimes memory is the best thing, kiddo,” Patton said. Roman rolled his eyes. He was getting sick of talking about the same thing day after day, night after night. Not everything lead back to _him_.

“I mean... yeah. Remembering’s still important. I just want it to stop hurting, you know?” Thomas said. “It’s like everything I do just reminds me of him. We slept in that bed. We watched that TV. We ate that cereal, cleaned that rug, bought those curtains.”

“You could theoretically move, if that does seem to be the source of your anxiety. I understand if there is too much sentiment, however--” Logan started, but was interrupted by an appearance on the staircase.

“Did somebody say anxiety?” Virgil said with a smirk. Roman groaned. Logan and Patton waved happy hellos, but Roman was not willing to be placated that easily. Just because they were growing closer to Anxiety didn’t mean that he had to.

“We didn’t ask for your presence, you eye-offending moldwarp,” Roman said. Virgil paused, his mouth falling open at the left corner, his eyebrow going up in irritation and mild surprise. Roman high-fived himself internally. Virgil was impressed with him.

“What is that, Shakespeare?” Virgil said.

“Well, Shakespeare inspired. Thank you for noticing,” Roman said, as proud as ever.

“Guys. Focus,” Thomas said. “I don’t really know what to do.” The sides looked to each other, a quick and clear action. They all knew exactly what to do.

“Move house,” said Logan.

“Stay where you are,” said Patton.

“Go on adventures!” Roman said.

“Get drunk,” Virgil said.

Thomas looked straight at the camera, cocking an eyebrow. Roman hated when he did that. He, for one, thought all of the ideas were unique and thoughtful, except Thomas getting drunk. He shouldn't-- “Huh. Maybe I will,” Thomas said with a dry laugh. “That worked _so_ well last time.”

A quiet, nervous laughter rippled around the sides. Roman was looking everywhere but Logan. Patton was quickly adjusting his glasses. Logan’s eyes were wide. Virgil just smirked.

“What?” Thomas said. “What is it?”

“I bet you guys remember that one, don’t you? The night after the breakup?” Virgil said. Patton covered his eyes with his hand.

“Seriously. What do you mean?” Thomas said.

“Well, Tom, I don’t believe that’s my story to tell,” Virgil said. “Why don’t you ask little Pat over here? He seems a little nervous.” All eyes fell to Patton. There was a quiet moment. He looked between them, finally settling on Thomas, and let his shoulders sink with a sigh.

“It’s just that, you know, we get a little… _odd_ when you get drunk,” Patton said. Thomas stared at him, confused.

“How so?”

“Well, Virgil over here kind of just falls asleep,” Patton started.

“Which is a welcome relief,” Roman added.

“And Roman doesn’t change very much. I know I cry a lot, which isn’t all that fun. And Logan…”

All eyes turned from Patton to Logan, who was still looking at everyone with wide eyes, an unnoticeable tickling of a blush creeping on his cheeks. If he did notice, he made no move to acknowledge it, keeping his mouth in a tight line and his hands clenched at his sides. He cleared his throat.

“I believe we are digressing from the original subject of helping Thomas with his emotional problems. Shall we continue?” Logan said, conscious of the eyes on him. An awkward quiet followed.

“I have to admit, you’ve really piqued my curiosity now,” Thomas said. “What was that about changing the subject, Logan? Sounds hypocritical.”

“I-” Logan started, but he didn’t finish. He hung his head.

“Logan goes nutso,” Virgil finished. “Bonkers. Crazy. Whack.”

“Can we _please_ move on from the subject at hand,” Logan said. His blush was intensifying.

“You could almost say he gets a little _touchy-feely_ ,” Virgil persisted. Logan’s head darted up, his eyes glaring daggers at Virgil.

“I wholeheartedly deny any accusations regarding myself and or Roman on that night,” Logan said, his eyes still narrowed. Thomas looked back and forth between them. _What was going on?_

“Who... ever said anything about Roman?” Patton said. Logan looked up at Patton, his angered, denying glare shifting from Virgil to Patton. Patton shrunk back.

“Wait. I’m lost here. Head of house, guys, remember? Fill me in,” Thomas said. All four sides were silent. Logan was still bright red, recovering. Virgil kept that ever-present smirk. Patton was smiling, but Roman could see it shake. “Princey,” Thomas said. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Awfully quiet? I don’t know what you mean! I haven’t the slightest, haven’t the foggiest idea of…” Roman said, trailing off. Thomas’s eyebrow was cocked. He didn’t believe him. “Fine.” His arms crossed. “What do you want.”

“The story,” Thomas said. “You’ve been teasing it long enough. Am I the only one who has no idea what’s going on?”

“I was, uh, in my room. I missed it. Sorry, kiddo,” Patton said. He forced another smile.

“I was blacked-out drunk. And _who’s_ fault was that?” Virgil said. He gave a poignant look to Thomas.

“So. Logan. Roman. Spill,” Thomas said. Roman uncrossed his arms.

“Fine. But if I’m going to tell it, I’m going to tell it in,” Roman started, pausing for dramatic effect, “ _flashback mode._ ”

The cream-colored walls of the common room faded around them as they entered their mind palace. It looked almost as if they were watching from the outside, the four sides standing in their spots in the very same common room, except months before. Thomas, though, wasn’t in his typical spot. Past-Logan was looking over his shoulder nervously. Behind him in the kitchen sat Thomas, a couple shot glasses and a bottle of vodka sitting open on the countertop.

“Welcome to the past, from a third person view. Almost like a YouTube video, if you think about it,” now-Roman said. “Try not to intervene, you’ll defer from the narrative.”

Now-Thomas nodded, staring intently at himself from another perspective. He couldn’t _believe_ himself sometimes. He often wished he’d never gotten drunk, never stayed up so late, never made that phone call. And to think he almost did it again…

Past-Patton spoke, moving all of the present sides to quiet. “I’m worried about him, guys. He’s a fragile little bean. Drinking isn’t going to take his problems away.

“It’ll numb them, isn’t that enough?” Virgil said. He was sitting on the staircase, staring over the banister to view Thomas. All of their eyes were nervously on him.

“Fixing his problems and numbing them are entirely different,” Logan said. “This creates a potential to increase his problems in the future. A list of symptoms includes hangover, accidental or purposeful phone calls, increased anxiety, nausea, vomiting, and in extreme cases, alcohol poisoning.”

“Well, at least we’ll go out with a bang. Snow White was poisoned, and look how she turned out! Married with a prince!” Roman said. The grin on his face seemed fake, forced.

“I think we just _lost_ our prince, Roman. And I don’t think he’s coming back,” Patton said. His eyes were wide. Roman looked over to him with a frown. Wow. Okay. Thomas had already had enough to affect him.

Patton had always been a sad drunk. There wasn’t a single time where Thomas went out with friends, had a glass of wine at dinner, or even just socially drank that Patton didn’t end up crying. It broke Roman’s heart.

“There there, Patton,” Roman said. He didn’t want to patronize him, but he didn’t know what else to say.

As if on cue, Thomas queued some song from his phone, the tinny music playing from his cheap bluetooth speaker. It was a ballad. Worse, a waltz. Even worse than that, a love song.

Patton could feel the tears pricking at his eyes.

Present-Patton looked at himself from an outside perspective. He’d forgotten how weak he could be. He needed to remember to smile! Keep it in! He needed to support the other sides!

Virgil yawned from his spot on the staircase. “I don’t know, guys. I think I’ll call it a night.”

“Virgil, we need you. He will begin to grow careless and forget to take care of himself,” Logan said.

“Can’t you do that, Lo?” Virgil said. He’d stood up, his legs swaying slightly.

“Virgil, we both are aware of how I behave when… _intoxicated_. It is for the best you remain here-” Logan was cut off by Virgil abruptly collapsing from the bottom two steps of the staircase. Roman jumped to catch him, graceful as ever. He was silently thanking himself for taking all those years of dance class. It was because of him that Thomas had arms like these. He maneuvered Virgil to the couch, gently laying him down.

If Patton was instantly affected when Thomas was drunk, then Virgil was almost immediately after. He could barely hold his liquor, and was always out like a light. For Thomas this was nice. One or two drinks and his anxiety trickled. Fell asleep. For Roman, it was havoc. At this rate, there were only a couple minutes until he was left alone with Logan.

“I’m not feeling too well, guys,” Patton said. It always went like this. Patton would retreat to his room, tears silently falling down his face, to let himself sob, lonely, but in peace. Roman shifted. He felt a lot of guilt whenever this happened, and he never knew why. He was never at fault! He was Roman! And yet, perhaps it was a side effect of Patton being _Patton_ , Roman always felt like he was to blame. It felt personal.

“Patton, do you want me to read you a bedtime story?” Logan offered. “Or perhaps sing to you again? I know this puts you at prime relaxation rates.”

Patton, teary-eyed as he was, eyed Logan up and down. He was never one to deny Logan’s bedtime stories, and especially Logan’s singing. Roman’s singing was brassy, belty, and loud-- beautiful, but loud-- but Logan? Logan was soft, slow, singing without intention to impress, but rather to comfort. Patton was addicted to it.

But Thomas was drinking. And Patton never wanted to be around Logan when Thomas was drinking.

“I’m sorry Logan, I think I just want to go,” Patton said. He slowly sunk down, a sad smile on his face.

So. It was just Logan and Roman.

It was quiet for a while. Logan and Roman never got along the easiest, being the literal personifications of logic and creativity. Logan’s stubbornness rivaled even Roman’s own, and even though they both just wanted to help Thomas, it was in very different ways. Roman wanted him to succeed, to prevail, to triumph over all others. Logan wanted him to be safe, to be reliable, to think and make rational decisions. The two had some overlap, but it was rare that they ever agreed on anything. In Roman’s drunken state, he kind of regretted that. Logan was an amazing person, (and, well, look at that charming face,) and Roman only wanted the two of them to be able to get along easier. He _knew_ it would benefit Thomas, especially if they could occasionally… dare he say it, _compromise?_

Roman was looking between Logan and Thomas. With each sip Thomas took, Logan wobbled more. It wasn’t too long before Thomas, too, was crying. Roman tried to shake off the thought that that was Patton’s tears seeping through. “I. I want to be concise and clear with you, Sanders,” Logan said. His voice was slightly slurred. Roman took a deep breath. This was going to be a long night, wasn’t it? “I d-don’t like you. I don’t like any of you,” Logan continued. He paused. “Except Patton. He’s… he’s cute.”

“We all look the same, Logan,” Roman muttered. “We’re all cute.”

“Aww Princey, you think I’m cute,” Logan said.

“I’m going to get you a cup of water there, Logic,” Roman said. “You don’t sound like you.” Roman left his corner, venturing to the kitchen. He tip-toed around Thomas. The night after a breakup of a three-year relationship. It was okay to want to drink away your feelings. It was normal. It was fine. So long as this didn’t continue, Roman was sure there wouldn’t be a problem.

He looked through the cupboard until he found Logan’s favorite mug, a two-tone blue and black mug with weird parabolic and sine functions. Roman filled it with water, plopping in two ice cubes while he was at it. He walked back towards Thomas, pausing to change the song to something a little less sad. Love songs were okay, but if he filled his already clouded head with songs of heartbreak and loss, he might overdose on emotion.

Roman handed the cup to Logan with a pat on the back. Logan took a long sip, blinking a few times. He didn’t thank Roman, but instead said “You should not put water in coffee mugs. We have water glasses that are perfectly able to serve their purpose.”

“There, back to your regular asshole self,” Roman said with an overdramatic smile.

Logan took another sip, setting the mug on a coaster on the table nearby. Logan always used coasters. It drove Roman crazy at their uselessness. Who cared if there was a circle in the wood? Logan, apparently.

“I miss him,” Logan said, so quiet Roman could barely catch it.

“What?” Roman said.

“Maybe I should call him,” he continued. Uh-oh. Here was where he got weird.

“Logan, stop.”

“Scientifically, humans need pairs to repopulate. I have no desire to repopulate. Therefore I am irregular-- ROMAN!” He suddenly shouted. Roman took a step back.

“Logan?"

“Roman, I believe I am a homosexual,” Logan said, as calm as ever. Roman gave him a look.

“Logan. We’re all part of Thomas. We’re all homosexual,” Roman said.

“Maybe he’ll come back,” Logan said, abandoning his train of thought completely. He began to pace, walking back and forth around his corner of the room. “Yes, he will return and we’ll be able to see him. Then I will be assured that I am valid and not just the _least favorite_ and I will keep Thomas safe and he will appreciate me. I will call him and force him to return and Thomas will admire me to the point of retrieving math problems that I can solve and perhaps, perchance, complementing me on my efforts and validating both them and myself and--”

“Logan, you’re rambling again,” Roman said. Although he ignored them for the time being, he did take note of what Logan was saying. Huh. He never would have guessed Mr. Tough, Emotionless Logic Guy actually had some fears hidden under those fake glasses and necktie.

“No! I must make this call. It will result in Thomas valuing me as he does Patton and as he does you, because even he is not blind to the beauty and functionality you serve, Roman. You are able to process at intense speeds, are able to comprehend both logic and emotion, are able to escalate Thomas and his opportunity in the best possible ways. You’re an expert at scheduling, at prioritizing, at… at looking at people in a way that will melt their hearts within the span of a mere instant,” Logan said. Roman made a face. Was this even Logan right now? Logan, who lived to put everyone else down, was doing nothing but lifting him up. As he spoke, he moved closer, slowly, eyes locking with Roman’s. “You’re ambitious, full of hilarity, and intensely _smart_ in your own way…” Logan trailed off. “You’re perfect, Roman. You’re all I want to be.”

Roman was frozen in place. What exactly was happening? He always knew that Thomas’s logic got scrambled when he was drunk-- everyone’s did-- but he didn’t know if Thomas had ever been this drunk before. Logan was still moving closer, his eyes not quite his own, his words completely lacking filter, flow, or whatever it was that made them Logan’s. It was like he was a wooden puppet from Pinocchio, a hypothetical voodoo doll from The Princess and the Frog, or anything but himself. He wasn’t _himself._

Logan was mere centimeters from him. Roman didn’t know where to move. On one hand, he could back up, get Logan his water from the table, perhaps retreat to his room. But to leave Logan fully in charge of Thomas right now seemed like a bad idea. The music was playing a pounding, heavy love song. He could move. He could. But he was Roman.

He wouldn’t.

It still managed to surprise him when Logan pressed his lips to his own, even though he’d seen it coming. Roman could feel his breath on his cheeks, his lips on his skin. He stood statue-still for a second, eyes searching. He eventually let them flutter closed.

Now-Thomas looked on in what could only be described as concern and confusion. “What?”

“As I knew you would be uncomfortable, I refrained from informing you of the night’s events. Had you not pried, you could have gone without the burden of this knowledge,” now-Logan said. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He really wished they would just leave. He hated to say it, but this was embarrassing him more than he’d like to admit.

“Ssh,” now-Patton shushed him. “I want to know what happens.”

“This is our life, Patton, not a soap opera,” now-Roman said, arms crossed. Now-Virgil shrugged, a doubting look on his face.

“Debatable.”

Then-Roman began kissing back. Logan buried his hands in his hair, an audible breath escaping through his nose. Roman, in turn, wrapped his arms around Logan’s middle, pulling him closer. He wasn’t thinking. Neither of them were. If they were thinking at all it was of _him,_ of the man that left them less than twenty-four hours ago. The feeling of his lips pressed to theirs, his hands in their hair, his arms around their hips.

It was Roman who took it further, pressing little kisses to Logan’s mouth in succession until Logan finally opened up. He melded their lips together like liquid metal, fusing at the seams. A quiet sound escaped from Logan’s throat, his eyes squeezing tighter. _Him. Him._ It was repeating with their heartbeats, which were increasing second by second. _Him. Him._ It wasn’t long before the mantra shifted from _Him, Him_ to Lo _gan_ , Ro _man_. It was shifting, moving, changing. Just like they were, with him gone. The phrase “Love yourself” took on a whole new meaning.

Logan slipped his tongue past Roman’s lips, moving his hands from Roman’s hair to around his shoulders. He pulled him impossibly closer, biting down gently on Roman’s lower lip. Roman took a sharp breath, leaning into the touch. He pushed their lips back together, intensely pushing, pulling, _kissing_ , until--

Roman pulled back for a breath, completely panting. Logan looked back at him, winded as well, taking in the whole picture. He was making out with Roman. He was _making out_. With _Roman._ He stopped. His eyes widened. Oh no. Oh no no no. He just… He just…

Logan’s eyes rolled back. Roman reached out just in time, catching him barely before he’d slumped into his chest. For the second time that night he prided himself on his dance lessons before taking a more serious approach. The task at hand.

He wasn’t going to let himself over-analyze this. He wasn’t. He couldn’t. He was going to take Logan to his room, drop him off, and tend to Thomas. It would be fine.

Surely it would.

He picked Logan up, bridal style. His glasses slipped off, and Roman made a mental note to pick them up when he got back. With a sigh, Roman paused. He looked down at the man asleep in a drunken stupor in his arms. With his glasses fallen and his tie mussed, he looked exactly like Roman did. He always did-- they all always did-- but in that particular moment, it was like Roman was holding a carbon copy of himself.

A stone sunk in his stomach. He’d taken advantage of him, hadn't he? Logan was _drunk_. He wasn’t in control of himself. Roman, though, was barely affected. He was fine. And yet, he still let himself make those choices. There it was again. _Guilt_.

Suddenly it was like Roman couldn’t stand himself. He had to leave, immediately, and he had to get away from Logan.

He rushed to Logan’s room, all but throwing his unconscious form on the bed. Roman dashed out, slamming the door behind him. He paused, pressing his back against the door, sinking down until he was sitting on the floor at the base of it.

He really didn’t want to think. Thinking was Logan’s job. But at this moment it didn’t feel like there _was_ anything to do _but_ think. His mind was spinning. Did he really take advantage of him? Was this something he would regret? Would Logan hate him? Would Logan even remember this? He was for sure of one thing, he was in the wrong. But he was the prince, he…! He was never wrong, he was… he was never…

He was wrong. And he needed to fix it.

He got up from the floor. He walked back to the common room, picking up Logan’s glasses. He cast a side look to Thomas, who was asleep with his head on the counter. Tear stains lined his face. Roman gave a sad smile. Today was rough. Today hurt them all. But they would be alright. They were before him, and they would be after. It would all be okay.

Roman returned to Logan’s room. He switched on the lamp on a dresser by the door. Logan’s room was not like his at all. Roman’s room was tinted a light red, Virgil’s was a dark purple, Patton’s was a primary yellow. Logan’s was a pastel blue. Everything felt lighter there, yet more hospital-esque. Sterile. He had one wall that was completely covered in whiteboards, schedules and graphs and charts drawn in colorful marker. Magnets stuck to the board, hanging newspaper clippings and other factual sheets of relevance that Roman knew Logan found important. One polaroid picture, hung among the clippings and printed articles, caught his eye. It was them. It was Roman, Patton, Virgil, and Logan, all sitting close together on the couch. Patton was holding the camera, that much was obvious. They must’ve been watching the TV; Roman thinks he remembers it being Family Feud or something of the sort. Patton was looking up at the camera, grinning. Virgil was hiding in the corner, his eyes rolled but a slight smile on his face. Roman was yelling at the TV, probably about something obvious the contestant was _so_ clearly missing the point. And Logan had fallen asleep, odd as it was, with his head curled on Roman’s shoulder. It was so domestic, looking at them from the outside. They were really great together, even with their faults.

Roman set Logan’s glasses down amid the stacks of paper on his desk. Contrary to what Roman might have thought, Logan’s room was intensely messy. When time was of the essence, things needed to be done immediately. It was essential. Cleaning could come later.

He looked over at Logan, curled at an odd angle on the bed. Roman sighed. He’d have to fix that, wouldn’t he? He walked over, pulling Logan’s leg over the bed. He pulled the covers out from under him, roughly tucking him in. Surprisingly, even with all of this going on, Logan still hadn’t woken up. Roman propped his head just so, making sure he wouldn’t choke if he puked or something. He was thinking of Thomas in that moment. What could Thomas possibly ever do without his Logic?

Roman pulled up the covers, leaning down over Logan’s head. He paused, still leaning down. Roman sighed. Might as well. He pressed a kiss to Logan’s forehead, smiling as he pulled away.

The next morning came, and both he and Logan woke up with a killer headache. Them and everyone else, that is. Thomas, of course, was the worst, and Virgil was back to fight with him-- or, really, to protect him. Everything was back to normal. And no one ever spoke about it again.

“Until now, that is,” now-Roman said. “Thank you for your tour on the memory express, be sure to come again some time.” The pale blue of Logan’s room faded away, the cream-colored walls of the common room fading back into sight.

Thomas’s mouth was curled into a line. Roman sighed. He’d known he’d be disgusted by them. He wasn’t too surprised. He was Thomas’s _ego_ , for crying out loud. He was easily bruised.

There was a quiet for a minute before Virgil spoke up. “Yeah. So. That’s what happens when you get drunk. You make out with yourself, cry in your bedroom, and pass out on the couch. All at once!”

Roman felt terrible. This was all his fault and he never should have shown them this. Maybe telling a watered-down version of the story would have been easier, but. “Are we going to talk about this, or aren’t we?” Roman said. He was done. He was done. “Because I’m sick of tip-toeing around it all the time. It’s like I can’t even talk to you,” he said, his eyes not leaving Logan.

Logan moved to speak up since the first time this ordeal started, but fell short. Logic, for once, didn’t know what to say.

“Well. I’m never drinking again,” Thomas said.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have shown you that,” Roman said. “It’s one thing to hear something but another to see it happening. And I know you’re probably disgusted by us-”

“Disgusted? By you?” Thomas interrupted. “I’m disgusted by _me_. I got so blackout drunk that I screwed over my sides to a point where they weren’t at all in control.”

“I was,” Roman said. “I was, and I took advantage of him. I-”

“Roman, pal,” Patton said. “You were in the same state as the rest of us. When you get, you know, a little under the influence,” he said with a chuckle, “you tend to take everything personally. It’s like it’s all your fault, and you feel so guilty about everything. We all have our quirks, but that wasn’t the normal you.”

“It wasn’t?” Roman said.

“You were really drunk. Don’t you remember the headache you had that next morning? You were a wreck,” Virgil said. “Stop stressing out so much. That’s my job. And for real, Thomas,” he added. “You’re right. Drinking that much isn’t healthy, no matter how often it happens.”

“Did Virgil just teach the lesson of the video? I think he did!” Patton said, a grin spreading across his face. “I knew you could do it, kiddo.”

“I didn’t sign up for this,” Virgil muttered. He sunk out of frame.

“Yeah you did, champ,” Patton said. “And uh, Logan?” He turned to Logan with a twinkle in his eye. “Drunk actions are just sober thoughts, right?”

“Pardon?” Logan said. His eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Supportive Dad out,” Patton said, sinking out of frame, following Virgil out.

Which left just Roman and Logan, who had barely spoken this whole time. Thomas felt more like a referee to himself than an actual player, looking back and forth between his logical side and his fanciful side. He didn’t know what they’d do.

“Logan, I’m tired. I’m tired of not talking. Can we just forget this ever happened?” Roman said. “I don’t care if I was drunk or not, it doesn’t matter. I need to let this, let _you_ … go.”

Logan’s shoulders slumped. He took a deep breath. “Look. I just needed affection. I… I miss him too, Roman,” Logan said. Roman all but did a double take.

“You? Sober you? Have emotions?” Roman said. Logan gave him a poignant look and he shut up.

“You were there. You were you. And, I suppose, you’re also me. We all are. I am required to love myself, and recently, I had underperformed, especially after _he_ left. That sober thought sprouted into a bizarre drunken action. So I suppose Patton was correct. Although not in the way he had intended,” Logan said. “You have my apologies, Roman.”

“Gratefully accepted,” Roman said. “Friends?”

“Well. I suppose that depends on how much alcohol Thomas consumes, doesn’t it?” Logan said. Roman laughed. Thomas… paused.

“Logan? Did you just make a _joke?_ ”

Logan sunk out of the frame before he could respond, the earlier blush returning to his cheeks.

It was just Roman and Thomas then. Roman wrung his hands together, looking around the room. Just before Thomas could ask him what was wrong, he turned to meet him himself. “Thomas, I feel so bad for taking advantage of him. Of… of you. You don’t deserve that.” Thomas smiled sadly.

“Well Ro, don’t think like it was your fault. Remember, you’re part of me-- you were drunk, too. And I know that Logan understands. People get drunk and make out all the time. I mean, not always with themselves,” Thomas said, making a face. “But you know what I mean.” Roman smiled.

“Thank you, Thomas. And thank you for understanding.”

“Sure thing. Get some rest, Roman.”

“Good night, Thomas,” Roman said, ducking out.

Thomas turned to the camera, not even sure what to say at the moment. “Well, I guess the moral here is be healthy. Don’t poison yourself to the point where your emotions aren’t in check, your self-preservation’s vanished, your logic’s scrambled, and your dreams are making your heart heavy. Drinking can be great, especially with friends and family, and I know it helps sometimes. But if you’re pushing yourself to the point of passing out, especially when you’re alone in the dark? It’s dangerous. Love yourself, fanders-- well, maybe not like I just did, but love yourself. Because I love you. Until next time, take it easy, guys, gals, and nonbinary pals. Peace out!”

The endcard rolled in, complete with the four sides curled on the couch, a game of Family Feud on. Roman was screaming something about apples, apples, for God’s sake, _apples_ , and Patton was trying to balance his polaroid camera on Logan’s head. Virgil, sitting rather removed on the futon, was all but scowling, and Logan, yet again, was curled up asleep on Roman’s shoulder. “Come on in, join us!” Patton said to Virgil, a smile on his face. Virgil sighed like an overdramatic teenager, but soon ended up sitting at the end, curled in on the short couch next to Roman. “Everybody say cheese!” Patton cries.

“Gorgonzola,” Virgil deadpanned. No one else gave a response. A click and a flash.

Patton smiled down at the picture, which came rolling out of his polaroid. He grabbed a pen, scratching a caption onto the picture before it had even fully developed.

Love yourself.


End file.
